The Unspoken-of Meeting
by DagrDragon
Summary: [dagcup] Dagur has always thought about Hiccup just that little too much.


A/N: This is my first dabble into httyd fics! And also, therefore, my first dagcup, so it's most likely _veerrryyy_ ooc as I haven't quite got to grips with writing these characters!

(also you'll have to excuse my rather swift glossing over of Dagur's escape lmao...this is just smut and a bit of an insight into Dagur's mind ((from my mind?)) so eh)

Anyhoo do enjoy!

P.S. I hate the editor on here ;_; I can't make things look pretty!

* * *

**The Unspoken-of Meeting**

There was perhaps only one person Dagur had ever found himself attached to in his life; just the one person who he would spare the time to care about above himself every now and again. It took him a while to realise it, but it soon became apparent that Hiccup was that very person. And, when he looked back on his life, he could see that in as far back as his childhood he'd already been showing signs of his future attachment to the younger male.

* * *

They were fond memories to Dagur, who would often think back to the days in which he used to push Hiccup under the salty water of the ocean, or when he would throw daggers at the scrawny male. It wasn't unknown for Dagur to let out a little pleased sigh as he thought of those times – alone, of course. Though Hiccup, on the other hand, always seemed to recall the events with a sheepish, uncertain tone that had Dagur sensing the younger hadn't grown up to see any of it as playful or character-building antics at all. That was somewhat hurtful to Dagur, though he would never – _ever _– show it. For ever since he was a child he knew he was different to his father; he had the mentality of a _true Viking_, not of a coward. He'd always known that he could, if the gods would allow it, grow up to be someone powerful and menacing, just like the chiefs of the Beserkers' past. Likewise, Dagur had always been under the impression that Hiccup could very well achieve the same; he was, after all, the son of the great Stoick the Vast. Unfortunately for Hiccup, it seemed the boy hadn't been blessed with a sturdy body or the mindset of his father – in fact, he was more like Dagur's own father with his inability to kill dragons and whatnot. Nevertheless, Dagur liked Hiccup, however inexplicable it seemed to anyone who may have somehow noticed. He could see the potential within the younger male, and every bit of rough-play was not only for his own amusement, but also a little attempt to draw out the tougher side of Hiccup that Dagur so hoped was in there. Even as a child Dagur knew he wanted – if not _needed_ – a good rivalry to keep his red blood pounding with vigour. He wanted to fight with Hiccup and prove himself to be the best against someone _worthy _of the challenge, he wanted to have an alliance stronger than mere words on parchment, and he wanted a great legacy to follow in their wake.

* * *

Of course, Dagur did indeed grew up to become the fearsome chief of his tribe that he'd always wanted to be. Naturally, his infuriatingly peaceful father had gotten in the way at first, but there was a perfect solution to any of Dagur's problems: violence and a show of dominance. He could never forget how thrilling it was to hold high his axe and take aim at his own father's neck. The feeling of the manic smile that spread across his face seemed to be permanently etched into his skin, reminding him of how twisted and stretched his lips had been – it was truly one of the happiest moments of his life, without a doubt. In his mind, that axe was freedom. Freedom from his father and his constant repressing of Dagur's natural desires to be the best and to _kill_. It was hardly a challenge, nor a moral dilemma, for Dagur to swing that axe. The sound of flesh ripping and bones snapping did not bring about sudden guilt, but joy. The severed head that then rolled across the floor as his father's body slumped backwards did not make Dagur feel sick, but rather relieved. _He_ was to be chief. He was ready.

* * *

Once he'd taken his rightful position as leader of the Beserkers, Dagur found himself rather excited to show Hiccup how well he'd done. He could guess he was probably a lot bigger than the frail boy by now; his arms were thicker and more muscular – from all the dragon killing, of course – and his torso was not only toned, but adorned with the scars of his battles with the fearsome beasts. He wanted to see the look on Hiccup's face when he presented himself to Berk to sign the peace treaty between their tribes. However, if the rumours that the Vikings of Berk had indeed been _training_ a dragon _army_ was true, then a signing was out of the question. Even more curious were the tales of Hiccup's amazing triumph over the horrific Red Death, which had led the boy to lose his leg. _If_ that was true, then Dagur could admit that he would be very much surprised by Hiccup – furious that he'd befriended a dragon, yes, but also in awe that he'd gotten himself such a great battle wound.

And so, after Dagur had stepped off of his boat and onto the shores of Berk, he was incredibly shocked to see that Hiccup had indeed lost his leg. He knew Hiccup's dismissive lies were, well, lies, but it was easy enough to believe that the younger male had lost his leg in a less than triumphant way, or that he was simply being modest. For a while during that trip Dagur felt somewhat disappointed to see that Hiccup hadn't changed; he was still as awkward as ever and, once again, it seemed that Dagur's example of a great Viking role model had simply gone to waste on him.

However, the dragon attack on that day had Dagur quite suddenly thinking otherwise. It was all a bit of a rushed blur as he fled from Berk to save himself from the raining fire and countless claws, but the image of Hiccup wrestling with none other than a _Night Fury_ had Dagur's imagination in overdrive for weeks to come. He assumed that Hiccup really had just been modest – that missing leg was truly the result of a great dragon battle, and that made Dagur tingle with excitement. At long last, there was someone worthy of being his rival, his _brother_, and it was the very male he'd for so long hoped it to be. There was even a smug sense of satisfaction in realising that, even from a young age, he'd known that Hiccup could do it. He _was_ always right, after all.

* * *

And so, for days and days and weeks and weeks, Dagur was unable to stop thinking about Hiccup. Hiccup and his possible battle scars, Hiccup and that _dragon_, Hiccup slaying the beasts with no mercy – and, also, Hiccup _saving_ him. Now, it wasn't that Dagur ever wanted to be saved. That was for sissies and cowards, which Dagur was most certainly _not_. However, he would have to admit that he was quite unprepared during his visit to Berk, especially to battle a Night Fury. He was aware that he could have potentially died at that time, and he was therefore quite in awe of the fact that Hiccup had risked his own life to save him. He didn't even know if Hiccup was still alive, but he prayed to the gods that he was, for Dagur wished that he would be able to save and protect Hiccup in the future, and that they would at long last be able to become brothers, slaying dragons together. He could imagine it well – the two of them on Dragon Island, swords drawn as they took down the Night Fury together, relishing in the pained screams that came forth from the diabolical creature. They'd both gain deep wounds that would later become scars to be proud of, and they'd both end up covered in the crimson blood of the dragon. They'd be intoxicated by the thrill of it all, hearts pounding, eyes wide and pupils blown out, chests heaving – it was simply so _exciting_. So exciting, in fact, that more often than not Dagur would find himself hardening beneath his underwear and leggings. At that time he couldn't quite work out what it was exactly that made him like that: the event itself, or Hiccup? He wanted to believe it was the killing of the dragon with someone he could admire, but there was that little niggling feeling, as he imagined peeling Hiccup's tunic away to see how the younger was developing, that told him otherwise.

* * *

It was almost laughable, then, that their next meeting would in fact be on Dragon Island. Dagur's heart swelled and his eyes grew like saucers when he realised that Hiccup was still alive, well, and out hunting dragons. Despite how thin he remained, Hiccup was obviously strong. And thus, it was on that occasion that Dagur called him 'brother'. It may have merely seemed like a wacky nickname to Hiccup, who took it with an awkward look tugging at his features, but it was far more than that. It was a promise of alliance, of trust, and the slightest admittance of Dagur's inner feelings that kept him awake at night, nursing the result of his fantasies. Yes, Hiccup was now like Dagur; they were different but oh so similar and altogether meant to be.

Dagur always thought that night should have gone an entirely different way – a more glorious way, perhaps ending with the chance for him to at long last get a taste of Hiccup like he so wanted. But he was also aware that there was no way for it to have been like that. There was no way to change the fact that Hiccup had _lied_ to him, that Hiccup had truly befriended and _trained _a dragon, and that the Vikings of Berk were no longer dragon killers. It was a heartbreaking event, one that tore Dagur's pride and shattered his hopes and dreams. The humiliation of having trusted Hiccup was one thing, but having _admired _him, having built dreams of the future around him, having jerked off to him _night after night_, was altogether enough to leave Dagur both feeling utterly empty and yet filled to the brim with rage. Not only was Hiccup defending dragons, but he would rather protect his Night Fury over Dagur – it had become clear that the earlier act of 'selflessness' had in fact merely been a fake fight to protect Toothless. After all the time Dagur had spent thinking about Hiccup, and after all his efforts to help him out when they were children, Hiccup would rather protect his demon of a pet – Dagur refused to believe the creature could be anything more – than be Dagur's brother.

* * *

Something had snapped inside Dagur that day. He was already deranged, he himself and everyone around him knew that, as told by his name, but he was slightly inclined to believe he became even _more_ deranged that day, for he himself couldn't quite work out his true motives. He knew he wanted the Night Fury dead – with the skull resting nicely on his head, if possible. He knew he wanted Hiccup to bow down before him, submissive as he kissed and licked at the leather of Dagur's boots. He knew he wanted to hurt Hiccup, just as Hiccup had hurt him, but he also knew that he would _never_ allow _anyone_ else to bring harm to the younger male. It had to be him, and only him. Hiccup was still, in Dagur's mind, his brother, albeit one who'd been badly misled. And perhaps that was just it; Dagur's true motives lay somewhere within all of that. He was unwilling to accept defeat, unwilling to simply accept that Hiccup would put his potential into befriending dragons with complete disregard for what Vikings were all about. He was unwilling to be beaten by a mere dragon, whom he was sure could be killed with a swing of his axe, just as his father had been. Dagur was better than any dragon; he was going to be a great leader for his tribe, and he was going to show that. Lastly, and which seemed to be a constant motive for Dagur, there were the fantasies that had yet to cease. They weren't always filled with images of the two males slaying dragons any more, but now there were scenes in which they fought each other. Hiccup would put up a good fight, but Dagur imagined he'd found a Skrill, whose great power was a perfect representation of his tribe. Somewhere along the lines, however, the dragons would go off, fighting one another, leaving Dagur and Hiccup to unsheathe their weapons. It would always end the same way, though, with Dagur ultimately showing Hiccup his dominance, pulling at his hair and licking thick lines along the drying blood on his neck. It was therefore clear that despite everything that had happened, Dagur still wanted him; he still _wanted_ Hiccup.

* * *

Yet, despite how much Dagur tried, and even though he'd obtained that Skrill he'd so thought would bring him victory, everything had gone wrong. He didn't like to think about it, but he'd lost to Hiccup. Alvin had taken to him to one of his cells and, after giving him a good beating, locked him up there. His helmet was snatched, as was his belt – Dagur would never forgive Alvin for the filthy smirk he wore while doing so – leaving the Berserker to clutch at his own bleeding knees through the rips in his leggings.

* * *

It took four years before Dagur managed to escape that cell, with grey walls still stained with the blood he'd painted there upon his arrival. Some of his men, still loyal despite all that had happened, had come to aid his escape, bringing with them weapons that he could use. They told him, after knocking out the guards, that a Skrill had been sighted flying over the sky of their island. It seemed to be a sign, a signal that now was the time of the Berserkers. A dragon attack on their island – which was now home to some of Alvin's Outcasts – had proven to be a good opportunity to escape in order to free Dagur. And, while he was pleased to be freed and given the chance to return to his tribe, there was one place Dagur felt he had to go.

Dragon Island.

* * *

The plan was to simply kill a few dragons, whose skulls Dagur could bring back and whose horns could be used in the creation of his new helmet. He needed to be sure that he could still slay a dragon, and he wanted to return as a great threat to the Outcast invaders. His men had helped shear off the beard that had formed during his stay in the cell, for Dagur felt it would simply get in the way of his killing techniques.

He left his boat and his men on the shore, wishing to press forward alone, and proceeded to sneak through the darkness of the island in the hopes of finding a prized dragon to kill. However, the first thing he found was not at all a dragon, but a human. A brown haired human who looked very much like the male he'd been unable to stop thinking about for all those years.

It was Hiccup.

* * *

The younger male froze in place when he registered that it was Dagur with him on the island. His eyes rounded in shock and his mouth fell open slightly. "D-Dagur? Is that you?"

"Yes," Dagur couldn't help the wicked smile that stretched across his face, "It's me."

"You _escaped_ from prison?"

"I'll have you know I still have loyal men who want me to lead them," He jabbed at his chest proudly, "But I'm alone now, I promise."

Hiccup frowned in confusion. "But why would you be on Dragon Island, alone, now?"

"It's been four years, Hiccup," Dagur strolled forwards, stretching out his fingers before he clicked each and every one of them, "Four years without killing _anything_. As you can imagine, I'm quite hungry for the head of a dragon – and it doesn't mean anything if I can't kill one by myself."

The way the younger male swallowed in fear had Dagur's insides fluttering with delight. He continued to step closer and closer until he could more clearly make out Hiccup's features, glowing under the moonlight and sharpened with age. He was an adult now, no longer a mere runt of a teen, as was evident by the faint traces of stubble along his squared-out jawline and the little braids in his hair. He must have been about nineteen, Dagur guessed, and he had certainly grown taller and somewhat more muscular. Not only that, but he was undeniably good looking. Dagur nodded to himself in approval, noting that the gods must have been holding out on him there.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Hiccup took a small step backwards, clearly finding their reunion awkward already.

Opting to ignore the question, Dagur asked one of his own. "Tell me, _brother_, are you still riding that Night Fury of yours?"

"Yes," Hiccup stated the fact as if it were completely obvious.

"And where is it?"

"He flew back to Berk," The younger glanced off to the side, "I'm practising my stealth here tonight."

"Oh _really_?" Dagur leant down with a look of disbelief, "And how many of your little friends are here too? Don't think I've forgotten that day, Hiccup." He spat out the last few words as he rose back up to his full height.

"None of them; they're on Berk too. It's just me and my..." He peered down at his shield before he raised it up and shrugged sheepishly.

"Your ornate shield, yes." Dagur dead-panned, "Because you're all _friendly_ with the dragons," He sneered, though a look of realisation soon replaced it, followed by a sly grin.

"...What now?"

There was no response; Dagur merely came closer and closer until he had Hiccup backed up against a large rock. He leant down once more, now taking his sweet time to admire Hiccup's new appearance. He could just imagine that freckled skin splattered with blood, dripping down from the corner of his strong jaw. Oh, how Dagur wanted to see that. It would be even better yet if said blood could be of the Night Fury. But that would have to wait, for Hiccup was without his dragon, and Dagur had no desire to destroy Hiccup himself. He _could_, however, make sure the younger male knew he was the greater Viking of the two, even if he'd ended up imprisoned for years. As Hiccup began to glance this way and that in search of an escape, Dagur hastily pressed him back against the rock with one of his large, strong hands, while the other grabbed at the hem of his new – at least to Dagur's mind – tunic.

"Erm, Dagur, what are you doing?"

"I'm just proving to you that I'm still the best," The taller grunted, "You haven't defeated me yet!"

"Aaand you're showing that by pulling at my clothes?"

"I'm taking them off! And then I'm gunna – " He stopped, looking Hiccup straight in the eyes. He could see fear within them, which both caused a smirk to flicker at his lips and a surge of power to rush through his veins.

Hiccup swallowed, but looked defiant nonetheless. "You're going to what?"

"Like I said," Dagur's smirk widened dangerously, "I'm going to show you who's the best."

"Look, I don't really think we should be doing whatever your _plan_ here is, Dagur – " Hiccup raised his hands, one still holding up his shield.

"Drop that." The taller snarled.

"No."

* * *

It soon escalated into a wrestling match between the two males, with Hiccup defending himself against the sword Dagur had swiftly unsheathed from his belt. They were evenly matched for a good while, until one particularly harsh swipe of Dagur's sword knocked Hiccup's shield right out of his grasp. Before the younger could so much as blink, Dagur had him on his back with that sword pressed into his neck, threatening to draw blood.

"Ngh, Dag..." Hiccup winced when the pressure from the blade intensified, "Are you going to – "

"No," Dagur spoke in a rumbling, low voice, his chest heaving up and down with excitement, "Not until you're with your dragon again. But for now..." He licked his lips hungrily when he caught sight of a small amount of blood trickling from Hiccup's throat. He removed the sword and grinned down at the thin line he'd left on the pale skin beneath. But then, as he looked at the fear in Hiccup's expression, Dagur stilled. Yes, he wanted to prove his dominance, and yes, he simply _wanted_ this, but he didn't want to be pounding into a fear-paralysed Hiccup. He glanced at the sword in his grasp before inhaling deeply and pushing it into Hiccup's hand.

The brown haired male frowned in confusion. "What?"

"I'm going to do this, and if you want to stop me, then you can. Try striking my neck, like how I killed my father, or you could hit my head," He ran a hand over his headband and across his thick orange hair, "I don't have a helmet," He egged Hiccup on.

"I _really _don't get what – "

Hiccup was cut off when Dagur's lips pressed into his own forcefully, while the older male reached down to scoop his head up with his now free hands. At first Dagur felt no hesitation, but within a few seconds he had Hiccup struggling against his hold. Before he knew it, he had a sword pressing into the back of his neck – not enough to cut him, but enough to be a warning.

"Is that a no?" He smirked.

He was expected Hiccup to confirm that, either by words or perhaps, though less likely, with a little cut to the back of his neck. But instead the younger simply stared at him intensely, his breathing somewhat laboured as he seemed to be thinking hard about it all.

"I..." Hiccup began, his gaze flickering between Dagur's eyes and his lips, "I don't know." He admitted, hesitantly edging his face closer and closer.

Dagur's stomach pooled with heat at that, and his heart even fluttered a little – though he made sure his expression showed none of it. He could see the uncertainty, but also the desire, in Hiccup's expression as his face drew close enough that Dagur could feel the younger Viking's breath against his skin. His smirk widened until he was bearing his teeth like a hungry animal. "Do you want to try it again, brother?"

There was, again, slight hesitation from Hiccup, who momentarily moved his face a few millimetres back when the word 'brother' fell from Dagur's mouth. But it seemed his curiosity won him over, for he soon puffed up his chest and came back towards the older male, closing the gap between their lips once more. He tried to push into Dagur, tried to see if he could get him to be the one pressed down onto the floor, but Dagur was having none of that. He did find it rather cute, however, and proceeded to chuckle into the kiss before he plunged his tongue into Hiccup's mouth, letting him know just who was in control of the situation. The sword that had been pressed into Dagur's neck now lay abandoned on the floor, Hiccup favouring the option of having both his hands threaded into the older male's tied back hair.

It all felt so _good_. It was just as Dagur had wanted it to be – with Hiccup challenging him but wanting it nonetheless. The younger's fingers were gripping hard at his hair, surely pulling some of it out of the ties and creating a bit of a mess. There was a slight sting when Hiccup reached further to yank at a section of Dagur's ponytail in order to get himself some time to actually breath, but that only heightened Dagur's excitement. They panted, staring at each other, before Dagur pulled Hiccup into his lap, letting the younger male feel the tent forming in his leggings.

"Do you feel it?"

When Hiccup flushed red but refused to answer, Dagur gave a good grind of his hips that had Hiccup gasping. "Oh! Er – yes, I do, oh gods, I do – what are we doing, Dagur!?"

"We're having _fun_," Was the older male's response as he nipped at Hiccup's neck, one hand roughly grasping the other's clothed erection, "You're excited, too..."

* * *

Moments later and Hiccup had been relieved of his clothing, while Dagur was only without his tunic after Hiccup's slightly less aggressive attempts to get the older male just as naked as he was. Dagur could see that Hiccup was impressed with his physique – he was still strong and muscular despite his time in the cell, although he knew he could have been far bigger had he not been there. Hiccup, on the other hand, was thin, but he'd certainly grown well. There were indeed a few scars etched into his skin like glorious paintings for Dagur to admire, though he himself had far more that Hiccup stared at in shock.

"Like them?"

Hiccup blinked. "How did you get so _many_?"

"I'm a dragon killer, remember," Dagur stated proudly, "Now, let's hurry up and get on with this!" He all but growled, though he still wore a grin of great fervour. He lunged himself at Hiccup, but the younger attempted to push him away.

"You're right – we shouldn't be doing this. Not when you want to kill Toothless."

"I'm always right," Dagur nearly rolled his eyes at that, "And are you sure?" He pressed his hands against Hiccup and soon had him against the floor yet again before he lowered himself down and began to grind his hips against Hiccup's even harder than he had done previously. "You don't want to know what it might feel like to have me inside you?"

Hiccup's reply was more of a choked moan than a 'yes' or a 'no'.

Chuckling, Dagur reached down and pulled his leggings and underwear until they bunched at his knees, releasing his constrained erection. He sucked in a breath when he felt the cool air hitting the heated head, but he soon remedied the unpleasant sensation by sinking his hips back down into Hiccup's.

"Dagur!"

"Feels good, doesn't it? It'll only get better, you know."

"Gods dammit, Dagur!" Hiccup clutched at the chief's thick arms as their erections moved against one another, "We c-can't! This isn't right!"

"It's alright to be angry for enjoying this, Hiccup," Dagur crooned, "We're enemies, after all, _brother_."

Those words were enough to have Hiccup freeze in place, though no without pressing his fingers hard into Dagur's flesh.

"But I've wanted this for a long time," The older male brought his mouth to Hiccup's ear, breathing hot air at the shell, "To _enjoy_ this with you. You're the only Viking on Berk I'll ever appreciate, Hiccup..."

The younger's skin prickled with goosebumps at that, and his expression softened entirely. Dagur hoped he hadn't given away too much with those words, but he felt Hiccup probably deserved to know this wasn't _just_ about the sex and the thrill of it all, but rather perhaps the only way Dagur could ever truly show that he cared enough about someone else to actually want to _share _that thrill, regardless of how betrayed he felt deep inside.

"Go on then," Hiccup sighed, his expression entirely conflicted, "Just the once though," He frowned in warning, "We're still enemies."

"Of course,"

With that, Dagur flipped Hiccup onto his hands and knees before he hastily spat onto his fingers. The younger flinched at the sound of it, peering back with a disgusted look on his face.

"_Really?_"

"Hey! I'm making this better for you, you know! You best be grateful!"

Hiccup could only shake his head and laugh lightly as he turned back around and waited for whatever it was Dagur would do next. Which was, of course, press a finger into his opening. Hiccup immediately tensed up while Dagur grinned at the reaction. The heat pressing all around his finger was so inviting that Dagur could hardly wait before he had a second finger pushing it and stretching open the little pink hole.

"Are you ready yet?" He asked the younger, his tone almost impatient as he glanced down at his angry red cock, desperate to be inside that warmth.

"Um...I don't really know? I've never done this before, so – whoa!" Hiccup nearly choked on air when Dagur pressed the head of his length against his entrance.

"I'm just gunna say you're ready," Dagur shrugged, "It was getting boring, don't you think?" He pressed his hands into Hiccup's round globes and pulled them apart, eyeing the sight as though it were a hearty meal.

"You know, I'm kind of having second thoughts Dag – _ah! Ah! Dagu-u-rrr!_"

Dagur could only smirk at how his name sounded while being moaned out like that. It was exhilarating, to say the least, and the tight heat of Hiccup was enough to have Dagur clenching his eyes shut as he tried to control himself for even just a few seconds.

Hiccup's fingers were digging into the ground beneath them as he gasped for breath. "It hurts!"

"Take it like a Viking," Dagur all but commanded as he let loose and began to thrust in and out, "Anyway, I told you it'll feel good. Don't you _trust_ me?"

The answer was obvious to both, but Hiccup sent him a disbelieving – and pained – expression over his shoulder. He continued to make noises of great discomfort, and Dagur knew that the spit lubricating him had already dried off, but the older male soon pounded against Hiccup's bundle of nerves.

"Whoa!" His arms almost gave out on him as his head flew back with the sudden burst of pleasure.

"Good?"

"That was – _ah!_"

"Told you. Now, did you want me to stop?"

Once again Hiccup peered around with a look of disbelief, though this time the pain had been replaced with need and lust. No words were said – until Hiccup let out a delicious moan, which Dagur took to be the consent he was too far gone to actually require. He continued to pound into Hiccup at that same angle, making sure to hit that same place over and over until Hiccup was a quivering mess with his cheek pressed into the cold ground, his arms having become too weak. It was a stunning view, Dagur noted, to have the future chief of Berk whimpering for him as his red fingers grappled at the dirt and trickles of dried blood stained his neck.

"Beautiful," He groaned, nearly breathless as he gave that one last thrust which took him over the edge. Hiccup would need a little more coaxing to climax, and so he reached around to pump his length while his own vision returned from the bright whiteness. He could hear Hiccup panting loudly and moaning out his name, and then, when he could see once more, Hiccup's eyelids snapped shut as his body tightened and shook violently.

"_Dagur!_" Were the last words to fall from between the younger male's lips before he spilled himself over Dagur's hand and onto the ground below.

* * *

It took a good while before either of the males had the energy to clothe themselves. They were lucky enough to have not seen any dragons, especially after all the noise they'd made, though Dagur felt as though that would have made it all the better, to have been able to kill a dragon _and_ have sex with Hiccup. He glanced over at the younger male, who was tired and dishevelled and had a little blood leaking from where Dagur had gone in too hard too soon. But that made Dagur smile inwardly – after all, _he_ was the only one who could hurt Hiccup, and that blood would ensure that Hiccup would spent at least the next day or so unable to stop thinking about him.

"That was fun, wasn't it, brother?"

"I...I guess?" Hiccup replied awkwardly, his cheeks flushing red as he realised how truly exposed they were.

"I guess?" Dagur's face crumpled up at that, "The way you were moaning just know suggests otherwise, Hiccup."

"Alright, whatever – can we _not_ talk about it now that it's over? We're enemies, so let's just...let's just go back to our own islands and forget about this, okay?"

Dagur could hardly hold back his long laugh. They both set about collecting their clothes, dressing themselves, and retrieving their weapons and shields – though Hiccup was limping slightly as he hobbled about. When they were done, Hiccup nodded to Dagur.

"I guess I'll be seeing you again soon?"

"Yes."

"Alright, er, well, I can't promise you that you won't end up in prison again if you do something like last time."

Dagur grinned at the awkwardly voiced threat; Hiccup was always quite tough despite his appearance, though even that was changing. "And I can't promise your Night Fury will live."

Hiccup's expression became all the more determined at that; it was as if he'd never been moaning for Dagur only a little while before. "We'll see."

With those parting words said, the two males turned and walked their separate ways. There was, however, one last thing Dagur needed to say. He turned back and, with his wide, manic grin upon his face, cupped his hands around his mouth. "And by the way, Hiccup, I don't think you're going to be forgetting about this for a long, long time! I look forward to the next time we meet!"


End file.
